


The Worst Poison

by Higuchimon



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: 2014 Advent Calendar Challenge (Yu-Gi-Oh), Diversity Writing Challenge, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higuchimon/pseuds/Higuchimon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the war against Vector, Durbe finds himself in a very bad situation, involving the mad prince and a truth he does not want to hear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Infection

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Title:** The Worst Poison: Chapter 1: Infection  
 **Characters:** Durbe, Vector, Mach, Nasch  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 4,145||story: 4,145  
 **Genre:** Drama, Friendship|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in their past life.  
 **Challenges:** Written for the 2014 Advent Calendar, Day #19; Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, section I, #6, a threeshot  
 **Summary:** During the war against Vector, Durbe finds himself in a very bad situation, involving the mad prince and a truth he does not want to hear. 

* * *

Durbe didn’t know which hurt more at the moment, the way his head throbbed or the way his ribs ached from the repeated kickings to them. He didn’t want to open his eyes; he knew where he would be when he did, and he wanted to avoid being there at least for a few more moments. The fact he was there wouldn’t change, but he could spare himself a few seconds. 

“Don’t keep your eyes closed, _good knight_.” Vector’s mocking voice rang in his ears, and Durbe held back a sigh. What measure of peace he’d found ended with that voice. He’d known it would come, sooner or later. Unfortunately, like he did with everything else, Vector ruined peace. 

He could feel the rope that bound him snug against his wrists and ankles. He didn’t know where his armor or weapons were, but suspected Vector’s men were likely to be gambling over them. He’d seen them do that with other spoils of war. 

No. He wasn’t a spoil of war, nor was anything else that belonged to him. His gear had been stolen and he was a _temporary_ prisoner, nothing else. He would escape and return to Nasch. 

A solid thump landed in his ribs again and this time he gasped, head jerking upward and eyes flying open. Vector stood in front of him, his usual cruel smile on his lips. 

“So glad you could join us, _sir knight_ ,” the Mad Prince declared. “We’ve been waiting _so_ long.” 

Durbe had no idea of how long he’d been unconscious. From the way his body ached, he’d either not moved for days or had been subjected to all manner of pummels and kicks. He wouldn’t have been surprised if both were the case. He knew well how Vector took care of _special_ prisoners and he could be considered nothing else, given how close he and Nasch were. 

“My apologies.” The knight shifted himself carefully, trying to take note of where he was and who else was there. So far all he could see was Vector, but he suspected there would be guards elsewhere. The prince wouldn’t want him to escape. 

Durbe didn’t really care that much what Vector wanted, and would go out of his way to make certain that the prince didn’t get it. Which meant he would find a way to escape and take as much information back with him as he possibly could. 

“I don’t think you really mean that.” Vector shook his head, giving a small insane laugh. Though to be fair, Durbe thought, any and all laughs that Vector made were insane. Rumor had it that he hadn’t always been like this, that once he’d been a fair and wise young prince, perhaps even fit to be an ally to the United Lands of Poseidon or Durbe's own kingdom one day. 

No one knew what changed him. No one dared ask. Rumor also had it that anyone who brought up the past died in the most horrible ways that Vector could imagine. 

Durbe believed _those_ rumors with all of his heart. 

For now, however, he shrugged. “Does what I mean matter to you?” There was no need to be polite. They both knew that Durbe would fight against Vector until the last drop of blood in his body, and likely try to find a way to fight on after that. They also knew that Vector would torment Durbe until that last drop came or until Durbe wasn’t there to be tormented anymore. 

“No, not really.” Vector circled him, and Durbe took the chance to look around his prison a little more. The last he’d heard, Vector’s army hadn’t holed up in any towns or villages, but here he was in a stone room anyway. So either their information hadn’t been accurate or he’d been out of it long enough for that information to be out of date. 

“You’ve already enraged Nasch to the point of war. All keeping me here will do is make it worse,” Durbe pointed out, straining at the ropes that bound him to a long pole in the center of the room. The room itself was little more than a dozen paces across and had only one door, and no windows that Durbe could see. An actual prison, then. They had ended up somewhere with real walls. 

He would’ve preferred being in a tent. It would make being rescued or escaping that much easier. He had no doubts that Nasch would arrange for a rescue if he couldn't get out on his own. The good king was likely making plans for it even now. If he could assist in his own rescue in any way he would. It would help if he knew where Mach was… 

Sudden memory seized him. He and Mach had flown over Nasch’s army, keeping an eye on where Vector’s headed and if they had any divisions trying to sneak up on them. They’d dodged a few arrows from archers who didn’t realize how used they were to this. Riding a flying horse meant that people would try to shoot at them; Durbe and Mach had grown used to that over the years. Avoiding arrows came almost naturally by now. 

Being Nasch’s eyes in the sky made him a prime target, every bit as much as being his closest friend. Durbe had grown used to that as well, and counted it a small cost to pay for the gift of being friends with the young king. 

Vector’s voice interrupted his memories. Vector would’ve enjoyed knowing he’d done so, if Durbe said anything on the matter. 

“What makes you think I _don’t want_ him to get any angrier? I _love_ him being so furious at me he can’t even think!” Vector laughed, the sound echoing off the walls around them. “It’s all the more fun for me when he gives in to his anger!” 

Durbe hissed between his teeth, straining harder at the bonds, but to no use. At least they _were_ rope and not something stronger. He could break them, in due time. He refused to give up hope. All he needed was time, and Vector would give him that time, whether he knew it or not. Vector liked to brag too much not to. 

“Where’s Mach?” Vector wouldn’t have passed up the chance to take them both. He’d probably threaten Nasch with unspecified horrors to them, or knowing him, very specified horrors that he may or may not carry out, depending on whatever suited his mad mood the best, in order to get the king to do whatever he had in mind. Which would likely not be surrender, not if what he’d just said meant anything. One could never tell with Vector. He wasn’t called the Mad Prince because they’d run out of nicknames. 

“Oh, your little bird-horsey?” Vector laughed again, and Durbe wished he’d stop. His head rang harshly enough without the added bonus of Vector’s laughter. “We left him in the woods where we scooped you up.” 

Sudden dread tightened around Durbe’s heart. That made no sense, not unless… 

“What did you _do_ to him?” 

Vector’s pacings had brought him back in front of the captured knight now. He took a long moment to stare directly into Durbe’s blue eyes, clearly savoring every moment of the knight’s fear and pain. “Don’t you remember?” 

The images flickered sharply through Durbe’s mind at Vector’s words. It had been one of the quieter days of the war, as Nasch marched in his enemy’s wake, trying to succor the few survivors they found in the shattered villages and towns Vector left behind, scavenging food and supplies, occasionally stopping to put out fires or do battle with whatever parts of Vector’s army dared or were ordered to face them. 

He and Mach remained above, darting here and there, scouting as they were wont to do. They’d managed to get a little ahead of Nasch’s army, which couldn’t move nearly as fast as they could. Dodging arrows remained a simple task, and for the most part, Durbe hadn’t thought anything unusual was even close to happening. 

Until some bright soul below in Vector’s army gave an order, and they released a near shower of arrows, all aimed for him. This wasn’t impossible, even for them, to avoid, but it was that much harder, and Durbe ordered Mach to rise up, over the incoming arch. 

Someone in that mass of archers had been watching for that very move. More arrows came, filling the air to the point that Durbe could hear them clatter off his armor. At this height he was lucky; they’d spent most of their force just getting this high and didn’t have the strength to penetrate his armor. On the ground, it might’ve been a different tale. 

Then, without any warning, Mach lurched underneath him, and began to fall from the air, his wings flailing uselessly as he tried to catch hold of the wind. 

“Mach? Mach, what’s wrong?” Durbe did everything within his power to find what was going on, but with his stallion falling to the ground, he had all he could do just to hold on. 

He caught sight of an arrow buried in Mach’s shoulder, a trail of bright red around it. A thousand thoughts skittered through his mind, but none of them paused long enough for him to think them. Instead, he put all of his concern toward getting Mach down safely near Nasch’s army. His healers could fix this; they’d worked cures that were nothing short of miracles before. He needed to get them there before it was too late, and before more arrows struck home. 

There was no chance for him to get Mach safely downward, however, as a silver cloud of _something_ knocked into him even as he started to guide his beloved mount. Durbe clawed and struck at whatever it was, but to no effect whatsoever, and it bore him off Mach’s back to crash land in the trees. He’d seen people moving toward him and let himself relax, firm in the belief that he’d encountered a group of Nasch’s roving scouts. 

A net, he realized now, that was what it had been. He’d lost consciousness almost as soon as he’d crashed, not even realizing that the forms that moved closer to him weren’t those from Nasch’s kingdom, but Vector’s. 

This had all been a plan of Vector’s. Take the flying knight captive, remove one of Nasch’s strongest assets, and cause him even more pain as well. Hurting Durbe wouldn’t be on quite the same lines as what happened to Merag, but it would be enough to push Nasch farther into hate and rage. Durbe had seen him growing closer every day since her death, and did what he could to keep his friend back from that edge. 

If he died, or worse, then what would hold Nasch back then? Iris’s sweet smile could do much, but the little girl shouldn’t have to do something like this. Nasch could well convince himself that finishing off Vector in the worst ways would be the best way to ensure she lived her life in peace, unlike the rest of them. 

All of that came back to what he’d decided before: he would find a way to escape and foil Vector’s plans. 

Vector poked him in the ribs again. At least this time it wasn’t a kick. He saw enough of Vector as it was; seeing his legs wasn’t on Durbe’s list of ways to pass the time until he could get out of here. 

“Well? Do you remember what happened to your pretty horse-bird?” Vector sneered at him. “Nothing more than rotting meat now, that’s what he is. You’ve been my _guest_ for almost a week.” 

Well, that explained why he hurt so much, and the roaring hunger and thirst as well. He hadn’t even noticed how dry his throat was until Vector mentioned how long it had been. 

“Now, down to business.” Vector circled Durbe once more. “You must be hungry. And thirsty.” 

Even though Durbe himself had just considered that, he didn’t want to know how this was ‘business’ to Vector. He said nothing at all, only watched cautiously as the prince stood before him. A snap of the insane royal’s fingers brought in a servant, who carried a tray on which rested a carafe of water, an earthenware cup, and a small bowl of something that smelled far more delicious than it had any right to. 

“You’re going to need to eat. I know you don’t want to share my hospitality, but do you really want to starve to death just to spite me?” Vector smirked. 

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Durbe replied as calmly as he could. His stomach yearned toward the food, but he tried to hold back, as much as he could anyway. What was even harder to resist was the call of the water. But he would refuse that as well. Vector didn’t give anything away for free, and the price for all of this could be too high. _Would_ be too high. 

Vector picked up the cup of water and tilted it toward Durbe, letting him hear it slosh around. His throat ached even more for it, but the knight shook his head. 

“Tell me what you want for it.” Durbe knew better than to pay it, but Vector would want to torment him with it nevertheless. 

Vector laughed again, swirling the water just within Durbe’s reach. “It’s very simple. It’s something you’ve done before, in fact, so it shouldn’t be any problem for you to do it again. You aren’t the perfect loyal knight that you wish people to think you are. You’re a traitor. You turned on your pledged king to march beside King Nasch against me. Your king has no stake in this war. Your actions could bring me to take _his_ kingdom as well.” 

Vector smiled for a moment, a look that his face didn’t wear well. “Not that I wasn’t anyway, but it could be laid at _your_ feet, Sir Durbe.” His tone made a mockery of Durbe’s title and the knight strained harder at his restraints. “What I want is this: pledge yourself to me. Bow down to me as your new master and serve me with _true_ loyalty, and I will set you free, feed, water, and clothe you as my own knight.” 

If Durbe had had a single bite of food in his stomach, he would’ve rejected it at Vector’s words. He shook his head as violently as he could. “Never. I’ve never broken my vows to my kingdom and I wouldn’t swear to you even if I had.” 

Durbe truly hated the sound of Vector laughing. The prince set the cup back on the tray and gestured for the servant to leave them on the floor, well within Durbe’s sight, if not reach. “You’ll change your mind when you’ve rested here a while. Once someone has turned their coat once, they’ll do it again and again.” He smirked at Durbe as he took a step toward the door. “Of course, I know I don’t have quite the _incentive_ to offer you that Nasch did, but I’m sure I could arrange something.” 

The look he directed Durbe was nothing more nor less than a salacious leer. In all of his life, no matter how heated the battle, Durbe had never wanted to take a bath quite so much as he did now. He held his tongue, though. It wasn’t Vector’s concern what form his relationship to Nasch took, and regardless, he would _never_ find himself in Vector’s bed. He would rather have shared quarters with a scorpion. 

At least then he felt assured he would’ve emerged without being poisoned. 

* * *

Wherever this cell was, the light outside didn’t change, which could’ve meant any number of things. Durbe concentrated on what he knew: that he was Vector’s prisoner, Vector wanted him to turn traitor, and …Mach. 

He tried not to think about the last. Of them all, Mach being gone was the most distasteful, the one that made him far sicker to his stomach than anything else. 

He didn’t know how often Vector returned to the cell to taunt him, to exhort him to join his side, and more. The more didn’t bear thinking about, as it sprang from Vector’s initial insinuation that he didn’t have the ‘same coin’ to offer that Nasch did, and evolved into Vector offering to ‘do his best’ to take Nasch’s place in Durbe’s life. 

Part of the reason Durbe continued to refuse food and water was because he didn’t want to throw it back up the next time Vector made his offer. 

He thought he was being given water anyway, since he didn’t feel quite as dry as he had. It was always when he was unconscious or asleep. He didn’t know which to call it, only that there were times when he dazed out, and woke feeling a little refreshed. He suspected that Vector had dark mages among his people who assisted in that. 

But there wasn’t any darkness outside, which meant the sun hadn’t set. Maybe. If those mages did exist, they could conceal the rising and setting of the sun from him if they desired. He didn’t know the extent of their powers, and refused to ask. Any scrap of information that he could glean that Vector wasn’t aware that he knew could help. Somehow. Eventually. 

Without being able to see the sun or stars, there wasn’t any way for him to gauge how long he’d been there. Vector’s visits weren’t anything regular enough to judge by, since they came with no regularity whatsoever. Sometimes he came, spoke to Durbe for a few minutes, walked out, then came back in and did it all over again. Sometimes two or three of those times of unawareness passed between his ‘visits’. Durbe couldn’t even be certain of calling them ‘nights’. 

Part of him suspected Vector of doing this on purpose, to make him lose his sense of time. Already he’d found his thoughts tending just a trifle toward lying to Vector, pretending to accept his terms, and getting something to eat out of it. Always the thought of Nasch and Merag and the look of utter betrayal on Nasch’s face, the tears in Iris’s eyes, pulled him back from that precipice. 

But every time it was a little more difficult, and every time Vector spoke to him, he thought he could see a gleam of rising triumph in the mad prince’s eyes. _Only a matter of time,_ that gleam seemed to say, _and you will be mine._

Durbe did not want to think this was true. And the closer he came to realizing that it might well be, the harder he put himself to work at working himself free of his bonds. 

That was what he did when Vector wasn’t there; he wriggled and strained at them until he had no more strength to do so. He thought he could feel them getting a little weaker at times, and strengthening at others. Without any way to look at them, he had no idea of how much progress he was making, if any at all. He wouldn’t have put it past Vector to have him bound in some way that only made him think he could get out. 

Durbe wasn’t the type to give up, however. Nothing short of losing all of his limbs would make him stop straining at the ropes that bound him. 

He wondered at times if his lack of progress could also have something to do with how Vector circled him on every visit, so if he _did_ get closer to releasing himself, Vector knew about it. Durbe hated not having all the information he needed. 

But he tried nevertheless, and if it amused Vector to tease him that much more, then he didn’t care. Let the mad prince think he would succeed. It kept him from other, less savory amusements. 

“You’ve been my guest for nearly a moon now, dear Durbe,” Vector said, moving around him as he always did. “Did you notice that your precious Nasch hasn’t come for you? That he doesn’t seem to care one bit that you’ve taken so much pleasure in my hospitality?” 

Durbe kept his head held up high. He wouldn’t give in to these taunts. “Speak what lies you choose, Vector. The truth is always stronger.” 

Vector chuckled, stopping directly in front of him. “So it is. And the truth is that Nasch isn’t nearly as interested in you as he is in stopping me.” 

“So?” Durbe shook his head. “Stopping you _is_ more important than anything else.” Not that being left here didn’t hurt… a little. Just a little. He trusted Nasch with all of his heart. Nasch would not let him down, no matter how long it took. 

He trusted Nasch. He didn’t trust Vector. If Vector said it had been a month, then it could’ve been a month. Or a week. Or less than a handful of days. Or anything in between. He’d trust only Nasch when he got out of here. And he _would_. 

Vector’s insane violet eyes met Durbe’s. “I’ve told you of my offer. Why do you keep refusing it? What does Nasch offer that I cannot?” 

“If I have to explain it to you, then you wouldn’t understand it.” Durbe doubted Vector knew anything of freedom or peace or self-respect, especially as they applied to other people. If he ever had before, he'd abandoned such knowledge these days. 

“If that’s what you think.” Vector stepped closer, far closer than he had in all the time Durbe had been his prisoner. “But let me offer you a sample of what you can expect.” 

Durbe didn’t like the sound of that. He had no room to get away or time to object before Vector seized the back of his head and pulled it closer to him, crushing their lips together. It was a mockery of affection, a parody of a kiss, and even the ghost of memories of others surpassed this one. 

Without his armor, all Durbe had on was a simple tunic, courtesy of Vector. He wasn’t sure where his underpadding had gone, but suspected it was with whoever had his armor with them. That was second on his list of what he wanted to do once he got out of here: get his possessions back. First was just to get out of here at all. 

Vector’s other hand pressed against Durbe’s chest, hot and slender and callused and _wrong_ and Durbe thought of hot baths and cool streams and swimming in the ocean with Nasch and anything except Vector’s hand on him. 

If Vector had more in mind for his ‘sample’, Durbe never found out, for at that moment, a soldier slammed the cell door open. 

“My king! King Nasch’s army has invaded the city! We’re fighting them off, but taking heavy losses!” He hesitated for a moment. “Nasch himself is heading here.” 

_Nasch._ Durbe pulled his head back as best that he could and breathed out the quickest breath of relief that he could. He’d known Nasch would come. He hoped Nasch had something that he could wash his mouth out with. Perhaps some of the famous wine of Kuragari; tales had it that it could wash away any bad memory. 

Vector pulled away and growled out a few comments on Nasch’s parentage that Durbe could’ve corrected him on, if given the time. “Coming for his knight, I see. I didn’t think it would take him this long.” 

He stalked out the door, giving orders as he did, and Durbe let himself sink back against the pole in gratitude. If that gratitude was for his rescue finally happening or for Vector leaving, he didn’t know and didn’t care. It was all the same to him. 

In all of his time here, Durbe hadn’t heard more than a few noises coming from outside of the room. He suspected that was due to Vector’s orders, trying to keep him isolated. But now, cries of battle, the jingle and jangle of horse-gear, the clash and clang of swords against swords, grew louder and louder. He could hear neighs and whinnies, and one of them, one that sounded stronger and clearer with each moment, was so _familiar_ … 

He hadn’t thought much about Mach. He would mourn, he’d told him, once he was out of here. He’d not let Mach’s memories be sullied by Vector and his taunts and offers. 

But now, with that sound ringing so strongly, he could not help but wonder and think that perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps _Vector_ had been wrong. 

For the first time since waking up in this place, Durbe truly let himself hope. 

**To Be Continued**


	2. Searching

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Title:** The Worst Poison: Chapter 2: Searching  
 **Characters:** Durbe, Vector, Mach, Nasch  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 4,094||story: 8,239  
 **Genre:** Drama, Friendship|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in their past life.  
 **Challenges:** Written for the 2014 Advent Calendar, Day #19; Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, section I, #6, a threeshot  
 **Summary:** During the war against Vector, Durbe finds himself in a very bad situation, involving the mad prince and a truth he does not want to hear. 

* * *

Vector stalked out of the makeshift dungeon and up the flight of stairs, cursing in every language that he knew. He'd been so _close_! He _was_ so close! It wouldn't have taken more than another week, perhaps less, before Durbe finally broke down. Weakened by hunger and thirst, isolated, with every tool at Vector's command used to keep him from knowing what was going on, it would have _worked_. He would've broken the perfect loyal knight and had yet another weapon to wield against Nasch. 

_He's not gone yet,_ the mad king reassured himself as he headed for the command area. _Nasch hasn't taken my toy._ That was all Durbe was to him, something he could use against Nasch and for his own pleasure, in as many ways as he possibly could. And Vector did not like to give away his possessions to anyone, not for so much as a single moment. 

Durbe would realize that Vector had only told him the truth anyway. He _was_ a traitor, a mockery of a true loyal knight. A true loyal knight wouldn't have allied himself with someone who wasn't his own king. Durbe had broken his vows as surely as if he'd raised a blade to his pledged sovereign. Vector would never have allowed such treachery by one of _his_ knights. Anyone who tried would've died in the most horrendous screaming agonies that he could discover. 

But of course, Durbe denied that he'd ever done such a thing, too blind by his adoration of Nasch to realize it. Vector's lip curled at the thought. How could someone be that attached to another? It made not a bit of sense to him. 

No matter. It didn't need to make sense, because Durbe would understand the truth, and in that understanding, Nasch would be broken. Vector looked forward to seeing the so-called good king again after that, with his freshly minted dark knight by his side. The look of horror and heartbreak on Nasch's face made Vector's day even when it hadn't happened yet. 

All he needed was time. And yet Nasch seemed not to want to grant him that time, finally finding where he'd locked up the knight and bringing his forces to bear. 

_He won't take him. I won't allow it._ Vector would slaughter as much of Nasch's army as possible to prevent that, personally if needed to. He'd gone to so much trouble to capture Durbe in the first place. Why give him up now, when the game had almost reached its completion? 

He stalked into the command room, his generals huddled together over the map of the compound, and his favorite slave kneeling next to his chair, waiting for orders. Vector paid no attention to the pretty blond for the moment, but stared at his generals. 

“What is going on?” He wanted answers, and the sooner the better. 

“Nasch's army is here,” one of them spoke up. They all knew not to delay when he demanded something. The general gestured toward the map. Vector's eyes followed the motion and the general began to point out specifics. “His archers have pinned down one of our battalions here, while two groups of swordsmen are coming around this side.” 

“Is this all of his army?” Vector knew it couldn't be; this was little more than something meant to rescue the disloyal knight. 

“No, majesty,” the general shook his head at once. “He seems to have only brought a small portion with him. We haven't yet found where he left the others.” 

“It doesn't matter. I know where he's going to end up.” Or at least where he would if Vector didn't have a say in the matter, and in this land, Vector had _every_ say that ever could be said. 

He drummed his fingers on the table, considering his options. His own archers could rake the foot troops, and he could set up traps along the way. Without the annoying pegasus to warn them, there wouldn't be anything that Nasch could do to disrupt those. Perhaps he would even have them coat their arrows with poison. He knew several where the antidote was either hard to find or even impossible in this region, and whose effects would make anyone who survived being hit wish they were dead. He lovingly entertained the notion of Nasch being one of those. It wasn't as if _Merag_ were around any more to heal him, and those priests and priestesses who still lived weren't as strong as she had been. 

With those delicious thoughts in mind, he started to sketch out his battle plan, as well as a couple of backup options, just in case. He wanted to kill as many of Nasch's people as he could, enough to force the stupid king to back off and leave Vector's playthings alone. He had plans for Nasch, plans that didn't involve their wonderful war ending here and now. Preferably it also wouldn't involve killing all of Nasch's warriors just yet, but since he hadn't brought them all, that wasn't a worry. 

How obliging of Nasch to do exactly what Vector wanted him to do. The mad king hoped that he would continue to do so. It would make his final plans that much more wonderful to see come to fruition. 

His inner thoughts still kept straying back to Durbe. The kiss had been a very good touch, Vector thought, showing just how serious about this he really was. If bedding the knight was what it took to convince him of how much he'd failed lhis vows, then Vector would do so gladly, eagerly. It certainly wouldn't be the first time that the knight shared a bed with a king. 

Of course, Vector knew quite well that he was by far the better option between the two of them, even if he had little to no desire for the knight as a person. No, what he wanted was the chance to despoil someone that Nasch treasured, to break Durbe down that much more. Vector would use any tool at his disposal for this, even the tool of his own body. 

Aside from that, Durbe wasn't his type. Vector had many others he could sate those lusts with, ranging from the pretty red-eyed slave he kept at the palace to the lovely blond plaything he took with him when on campaign, like now. He seldom objected to taking pleasure with anyone that he encountered along the way who might catch his fancy either. So taking Durbe to his bed wasn't out of desire for the other's body, as attractive as it was. 

Not that he would tell Durbe that. Lies and deception were as much Vector's tools as anything else, if not more so. 

“Does everyone understand?” He glanced at his generals, all of whom nodded quickly. They were the best that he had, the most ruthless and vicious who had ever been in his service, almost nearing his own prowess on the battlefield. Anyone who had anything resembling _compassion_ for their enemies perished before he'd finished his first campaign after assuming the throne. He had no use for those who didn't understand the glories of conquest and war. 

Now he rose to his feet, resting one hand on his swordhilt. “Good. Then go!” 

In moments they all scattered, and Vector watched in satisfaction. There were few events he enjoyed more than seeing his orders obeyed. 

He turned his attention to his slave. “Go back to our quarters and be prepared to leave at a moment's notice. I doubt we'll be here more than the rest of the day.” 

Despite all of his plans for fighting, it didn't matter how the battle came out for this. Now that Nasch knew where the knight was, he would either keep attacking until he rescued the traitor-to-be, or until he was dead, the fool. Either way, Vector's plans called for them to depart this place no later than sunrise of the following day, and preferably before sunset today. 

He watched as the slave hurried away, satisfied once again that his orders were followed. All of those who served him knew better than to disobey. Even Nasch followed his desires, all unknowingly. Vector had several interesting surprises awaiting the boy king once he found him. 

Now if only _Durbe_ could become that well trained and bow down to his true master. 

Vector allowed himself a small shrug. It would happen, sooner or later, even in the unlikely event of Durbe being rescued. He'd planted the seeds of doubt precisely where he wanted them in the knight's mind, and no matter what happened, he would think of Vector's words, of the truth that he didn't want to admit now, and he would find himself accepting it. There could be no other outcome for this. Vector himself would not allow it. 

Nasch stalked through the muddied streets of the small town, bloodied sword in hand, looking for anyone else who might stand between him and Durbe. He wanted Vector. The mad king had taken enough from him already, interrupting the peaceful life he'd worked towards for so long, twisting the ocean god in such a fashion that only Merag's life had been enough to purify him, unleashing fire and sword wherever he went, costing the lives of hundreds of soldiers on both sides, and now, _taking Durbe from him_. 

It had to stop. It _would_ stop. _He_ would stop Vector and if he had to kill Vector to do it, then so be it. It wasn't as if this would be the first time he killed someone. And when it came to Vector, Nasch found that he looked forward to doing so. 

He had to pull himself back, though. If he simply stomped off to slaughter Vector without thinking, then Vector would pull some kind of a trick and more innocent people would die. _Maybe I should challenge him personally?_ The idea certainly had merit. But first and foremost, he wanted to get Durbe to safety. Only when he knew the other wasn't enjoying Vector's questionable hospitality could he even think about assaulting the mad prince personally. 

Vector wasn't a bad fighter; Nasch knew that quite well. He'd seen the other on the battlefield, slicing through troops as if possessed by some kind of a demon. To face him one on one would be one of the hardest fights the young king could imagine having. But it was a fight that had to happen, to save more lives than would be lost otherwise. Perhaps not now; Nasch would be satisfied with getting Durbe out of here. But sooner or later, it would happen. 

'Streets', in all honesty, wasn't a very good way to describe the openings between buildings in this town. They were somewhat wider than what one might call alleyways, and they most certainly weren't broadways. Narrow, somewhat overgrown with moss and weeds, and defined only by the buildings, or what remained of them, that was really what they were. 

What irritated him far more than how large or small the openings were was the fact that Vector's warriors thronged wherever there was enough space for two or more of them to do so, focusing all of their energy on him. If he hadn't been as fueled by anger as he was, he might've been tired from all of this. As it was, he kept going, looking for any sign of Durbe or where he might be held. 

He didn't consider asking the soldiers. He knew something of how Vector thought and Vector wouldn't have let just anyone know where a prisoner of Durbe's importance was. If he'd seen a servant of any type, he might try one of those. Someone would have to tend to Durbe's basic needs, and he doubted Vector would trust that to just anyone. 

_He won't have done it himself. Not all of it. That's too much like work for him._ Nasch's lip curled at that. He somewhat wished he'd given in to the requests of some of his advisers and had spies inserted into Vector's kingdom. Perhaps then he would have a better idea of who he should look for, if anyone in particular. 

He could hear battlecries and the clash of sword up on sword or shield, the hiss of arrows flying overheard, the cries of the wounded and the dying, and he ignored them all. His generals could handle this for the most part. He'd come here to find Durbe and there was nothing that would stop him from accomplishing that. 

The farther he made his way into the wrecked village, the more intact buildings he found and the more of Vector's soldiers turned up. None of them gave him more than a few moments of pause, especially since most of them seemed more inclined to head away toward where his own troops presumably marched. Nasch didn't bother to ask what the ones who didn't leave wanted, since those were the ones who started to attack him. He never wasted more than a few seconds, a minute or two at the most, finishing them off. Vector's soldiers were well-trained but he was in a hurry. 

Perhaps another day he would have taken the time to fight them long-term. But today, with Durbe hidden somewhere here, was not that day. 

More and more warriors began to turn up, and not all of them were interested either in going toward another battleground or fighting Nasch. Instead, they crowded thicker and thicker in one particular area, and Nasch turned his steps that way. 

“Where is Sir Durbe?” Nasch cut the legs out from one soldier and seized him by the collar before he could completely fall. “Tell me where Durbe is.” 

The soldier stared, gibbering, panic in his eyes, shaking his head rapidly. “Don't ...know...” 

Nasch didn't waste any further time here. As he'd thought, it was unlikely that the common soldiers knew anything beyond Vector ordering them to block his path. If that meant he had to cut his way through them all, he would do it. 

Cutting through them wasn't as easy as all that, especially since he was outnumbered nearly fifty to one here. The farther he pressed onward, the more they pressed around him, grabbing for any body parts of his, attempting to get his sword, anything that would slow him down or stop him altogether. 

He'd lost count of how many of them clung to him, throwing as many of them off as he could. He'd come alone in the hopes this would give him a better chance of finding Durbe, leaving the bulk of his army behind and bringing just enough to start a distraction elsewhere. But without all of Vector's people being distracted, this was turning out to be much more difficult than he'd thought it would be. 

“King Nasch.” Vector's voice echoed from far above him. “How good of you to join us. I thought you'd _never_ get here.” 

Nasch's eyes narrowed just at the sound of the mad king's voice. “Where's Durbe?” 

“Really, can't you say something else? That's all you've had on your lips since you got here,” Vector tutted. “I don't know why you'd care about that treacherous knight. He and I have been having _so_ much fun together.” 

Nasch blinked, then shook his head. “I don't have time for your games, Vector. Either release Durbe or come fight me yourself.” 

“That's not going to happen. I have far too much to do right now to waste time playing games with you today,” Vector sniffed. “But really, tell me why you want him back. His loyalty isn't to you. He's sworn to another king. He isn't _that_ good in bed. Trust me, I know.” 

Nasch decided it was just as well that Vector hadn't said that while in reach of his sword, because he wouldn't have spoken another word after that, no matter what. As it was, the look he gave those soldiers closest to him sent them backing off, muttering in fear. 

“Durbe is my best friend.” And more, but they didn't make an issue about it and not only would he not confirm anything to Vector, but he wouldn't believe a word that came out of Vector's mouth, either. Whatever the so-called king said was a lie. “And I'm not leaving him in your hands another moment.” 

“Oh, that sounds so noble! What would you do if he wanted to stay with me, then, Nasch?” Vector laughed, a full-throated cackle that echoed from too many places in the ruins to properly identify. Nasch started moving again anyway, glaring more at the soldiers to get them out of his way. “He just might, you know. I know _I_ want him to stay, and as I told him, once someone turns their coat once, it takes hardly nothing for them to do it again.” 

Nasch imagined what it would be like to tighten his hands around Vector's throat and to squeeze until no more of those filthy lies could come out of him. “Durbe hasn't betrayed anyone. I don't think he'd know how even if he wanted to.” 

“Now, now, remember what I said? He betrayed his king to serve you.” Vector's voice still came from too far away to pin down but Nasch kept on moving anyway. He'd find his enemy or his friend. He wanted to find Durbe first, but he'd take a chance to slice some chunks out of Vector as well. There wasn't anything he knew of stopping him from doing _both_. 

Except Vector. And his twisted mind. And the two pathways that spread out before Nasch without warning. Pathways could well have been as wrong a designation as streets would be for the openings in the village, but Nasch wasn't sure of what else to call them. Two freshly placed lines of stone spread out in separate directions, each leading to a different building. Outside of each building stood an equal amount of guards. 

“Vector!” Nasch snapped the word out, growing swiftly tired of the other's games. “What are you doing?” 

“Oh, this is just a little amusement. You have one choice here. Pick a building to enter. I'm in one of them. The traitor knight is in the other. If you choose the right one, you'll find him. If you don't... you'll find me.” 

“And if I find you?” Nasch bit each word off as if it had caused him personal offense. 

“Then the next time you see _my_ knight, you won't disagree that he has broken his vows. I'll have ample evidence of that by then,” Vector chuckled. “But if you find him, that means that I get away. Is that really what you want?” 

Nasch didn't believe a word of any of that. If he found Vector, there would be no way that they'd both come out of this alive. He'd make certain of that. Which meant that he wouldn't be able to do anything to Durbe, no matter where the knight was. 

And if he found Durbe, then by very definition, nothing else would happen to him, and they could continue to chase Vector even if he got away. 

_Vector's too tricky not to have figured this out._ Nasch knew something of how his enemy thought after all this time of chasing him. Something else was going on here, and he would have to decide carefully. 

“Hurry up, Nasch. Your pretty boy-toy isn't going to wait forever for you to find him, and neither will I!” Vector's laugh echoed once more. Nasch had wondered more than once what demon from Hell Vector paid off to get that laugh. 

Though he wouldn't have been very surprised if demons paid Vector to stop laughing. Even the unholy minions of Hell had standards. 

Regardless, he needed to make a choice. He glanced between the two buildings; they looked almost identical. Nothing on either one made it stand out as a place where an important prisoner like Durbe would be kept. 

Knowing Vector, he might not be in either one of them. Or Vector could have lied in a different fashion and they were both in the same one but in different parts of it. Nasch knew the biggest danger in dealing with Vector was believing anything that he said in the first place. If Vector told him the sky was blue and clouds were white, Nasch made a point to look up to the sky before believing a word of it. 

Something caught his attention as he tried to make his mind up, something circling high above the buildings. A quick smile flashed across his features as he watched, hoping for some kind of hint. 

“Nasch!” Vector's voice cracked through the air. “Are you going to make up your mind or are you going to stand there all evening?” 

Nasch gave no answer at first, until that small speck swooped away suddenly. “I don't choose either of your options, Vector!” 

“So you want to leave your traitor knight to my tender mercies?” Vector asked, and Nasch could envision the contemptuous look on the other's features. “How wonderful! I hope you look forward to seeing him again at my side very soon!” 

“Actually, I think I look forward to seeing him again soon, but at _my_ side, not yours!” Nasch declared, and darted forward, following the direction that speck led in. 

Vector sputtered something incoherent, and the guards on both structures began to surge after Nasch. He paid them no mind, all of his attention on the speck as he ran, dodged, and weaved through the thick forest surrounding the village. The two buildings had been close to the edge of it, likely enough why Vector chose them, and a small path, little more than a trail, led away from them both. 

Nasch's armor protected him from the thorns that tried to seize at him from the sides of the trail. It was just as well; he didn't pay enough attention to the obstacles to avoid them himself. He simply charged ahead, grasping for any sign of that speck or for what he expected the speck to lead him to. 

Ahead of him the trail widened a fraction, and he could hear voices coming from there, ones with the accents of Vector's kingdom. The creak of wagon wheels and the whinny of horses pulled him further on as he surged forward, a new strength bursting up from within. 

He kept himself from stumbling over a rock at the end of the trail only by sheer chance, and came to his feet with his sword raised and ready. Less than a stone's throw away rolled a wagon, surrounded by a dozen mounted guards, with more seated on top. The ones on horseback turned toward him, while the ones on the wagon focused their attention on what they guarded. 

On who they guarded: for there in the wagon struggled Durbe, a thick gag around his mouth, a blindfold around his eyes, wrists and ankles chained together, a collar around his neck with a chain leading from it held by the guard who sat by the driver. 

Every thought in Nasch's head vanished in a rush of rage and fire. He didn't care that he was outnumbered. He didn't care that they could threaten Durbe's life, or end it, before he could get there. An incoherent howl of rage burst from his lips, and he had just time to see Durbe lift his head and turn toward him before the first of the guards brought his sword down. 

Nasch caught it on the flat of his own and pushed backwards, moving to the side and shoving harder as he did. As soon as he had the room to work with, he swept his blade underneath the guardsman's and cut deeply into him. The guardsman stumbled backwards, eyes widening as Nasch brought his sword in for a quick finishing blow. 

For all that Nasch wanted to rescue Durbe, he couldn't let himself watch the other for very long. Seeing the noble knight treated as little more than a common criminal set his blood aflame, and he needed to focus in order to fight. So as much as it pained him, he closed off all but the sight of the guards as they drew closer, and thought of each of them only as opponents to be defeated. They followed orders and nothing more. The one he truly wanted to hate for all of this was Vector. 

And Nasch was very good at hating Vector. 

**To Be Continued**


	3. Cleansing

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.  
 **Fandom:** Yu-Gi-Oh Zexal  
 **Title:** The Worst Poison: Chapter 3: Cleansing  
 **Characters:** Durbe, Vector, Mach, Nasch  
 **Word Count:** chapter: 4,095||story: 12,334  
 **Genre:** Drama, Friendship|| **Rated:** PG-13  
 **Notes:** This series takes place in their past life.  
 **Challenges:** Written for the 2014 Advent Calendar, Day #19; Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, section I, #6, a threeshot  
 **Summary:** During the war against Vector, Durbe finds himself in a very bad situation, involving the mad prince and a truth he does not want to hear. 

* * *

_Nasch!_ Durbe thought he'd struggled against the ropes binding him to the pole in that tiny cell, until he heard a howl of rage that could belong to only one person. He couldn't see or speak at the moment, but that didn't stop him from fighting his bonds a thousand times harder than he already had. 

The chains that bound him now couldn't be broken any more than the ropes earlier. Whoever it was that held the chain connected to the collar yanked on it hard, but Durbe paid no heed, just straining with every ounce of effort he could put into it. 

Perhaps if he'd been better fed and less exhausted from hardly being allowed to move for weeks on end, he would've had better chances of at least pulling away from his captors. Durbe didn't know. What he knew was that he could hear the clash of weapons against one another, the shouts of warriors as they attempted to surround and finish off Nasch, and Nasch's own grunts and snarls of rage as he fought, each one as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. 

He held onto the memory of the sound he'd heard before Vector left, when word of the attack came. Another sound he knew down to the core of his bones, a whinny that he'd heard a thousand times. Perhaps it had only been an ordinary horse and he was only convincing himself of what he wanted to hear. Mach had been injured, he knew that very well. He'd seen the blood with his own eyes, and experienced the crash that sent them both to the ground. 

But it had been Vector who told him Mach was _dead_ , and Durbe wasn't in the habit of believing anything that Vector told him without a great deal more evidence than he currently found himself in possession of. 

Vector hadn't been gone all that long when other warriors entered the cell, carrying chains and shackles with them. Durbe ached still for a chance to flee at that moment, but they'd taken no chances. The steel collar had been fastened around his neck, complete with the chain being held by the burliest one there, before they'd undone the rope bonds. He'd been forced to his knees with a couple of hard yanks, his arms held tightly behind his back as they shackled his wrists together. 

They'd left his feet unbound for the moment, finishing off the bindings with a tightly wrapped blindfold and gag. Then he'd been pulled out of the cell and through what he guessed were corridors or hallways. He still hadn't had a single glimpse of where he'd been imprisoned. Vector liked to keep him confused, he guessed, and it was working very well indeed. 

He'd stumbled here and there, unable to see where to put his feet, and that won him blows and snarls from the ones dragging him along. If he'd been able to, he would've told them they could hardly expect someone who couldn't see where he was going to walk smoothly. But if that had occurred to them, they never said a word about it. 

Warm sun touched his skin at last and they were no longer inside of a building. He breathed in the sharp scent of grass and trees, even as the soldiers pulled him over somewhere else. He didn't guess at first what it was, until he found himself picked up and thrown bodily onto what he realized a moment later was a cart or wagon of some kind. Now his feet were chained together, making it all but impossible for him to move on his own. 

Vector, he realized, had no intentions of letting Nasch rescue him, not without a great deal more effort than the good king might be ready or even able to give. 

Durbe breathed a trifle heavily at that, his head spinning with a thousand confused notions. Why would Nasch put in that much effort anyway? They were friends, yes, but this would get more of his warriors killed, and might not even provide a good way to get to Vector. Was it worth it? Would Nasch try? 

The knight wasn't certain how much of what he thought was because it was true or because of what Vector's sweetly poisoned words slipped into his mind. He wanted, he _needed_ time away from all of this to get himself into order, and he knew he wasn't going to get it any time soon. Perhaps not at all, if Vector had any say in the matter. 

But now, with Nasch's battle cries ringing sharply in his ears, Durbe didn't wonder _why_ the good king had come for him. He knew that Nasch _had_ , and that was all that he needed to know. 

Quiet murmurs from the guards still around him filled Durbe's ears, just before weight moved on the wagon, and for a brief moment, Durbe dared to hope that Nasch had made it there. The hope shriveled and died when a far too familiar hand touched the side of his face, then brushed through his hair. 

“I really didn't think he'd get this far,” Vector mused. “But I can't be that surprised. You three...excuse me, _two_ , would do anything for each other, wouldn't you?” 

Durbe did what he could to pull away from Vector's touch, as he always had. Vector, as he always had, paid no attention to that, but continued what he was doing. 

“Have you quite finished killing my soldiers, Nasch?” Vector raised his voice. “I think we have a settlement to make.” 

The din of battle eased and faded, and Durbe could hear footsteps moving through grass. “No. No settlements, no deals. You release Durbe, that's it.” 

Vector's hand trailed down the side of Durbe's cheek once more. Durbe lifted his head and smashed against the mad prince's side with all of his gathered strength, hissing unintelligibly through his gag. He would put up with a great deal, but Vector had long since reached the limits of his tolerance. 

That won him a harsh smack, but Durbe thought it well worth the trouble. Vector shifted somewhat away from him, but didn't get up. 

“What will you give me for him?” 

“Nothing. He's worth far more than anything you could afford even if I were going to bargain with you.” Durbe could envision perfectly the stern, unrelenting look on Nasch's face. 

Vector didn't appear to appreciate it as much as the knight did, however. “Do you think I'll just back off and let you have him back? You've always been foolish, Nasch, but are you genuinely _stupid_? What can you do to stop me from killing him if that's what I want to do?” 

One hand lifted Durbe's chin and what could only be the blade of a knife touched his bared throat, just above the collar. “I could finish it in a moment. And it would be your fault. Every drop of his blood on your hands.” 

If Durbe could've done so without the sharp edge slicing into him, he would've shaken his head. As it was, he tried to convey to Nasch that he wasn't afraid to die, that Nasch shouldn't do _anything_ that Vector wanted, with what body language he could manage as restrained as he was. 

“He is a wiggler, isn't he?” Vector chuckled, a dark amusement coating his words. “But I'm certain you knew that already.” 

“Your time is running out, Vector. Either release Durbe or pay a price too high even for someone as insane as you.” Nasch spoke without a shred of doubt in his words. Durbe wondered what gave him such conviction. He didn't know what the king had in mind, but it had to be something, something he didn't think Vector could counter. 

All of Durbe's attention remained focused on what was going on between the two kings. The guards weren't that far off, but he guessed at least some of them had moved back when Vector joined them on the wagon. He didn't know how many of them there had been, so he couldn't be certain beyond a vague guess of how many might still be there. He didn't doubt Nasch could take them all if he had to. _He_ certainly could have if he'd been unbound. 

“And what price might that be?” Vector sounded only mildly intrigued by the question as he kept the knife on Durbe's throat. “What could you possibly do to save him, Nasch? He is mine. His life is mine, to give or take.” 

Durbe's attention hadn't wavered at all, so he might well be forgiven for not completely realizing what the faint sound he heard in the distance really was. Some part of him dismissed it as little more than wind in the trees. Another part knew what it was and dismissed it because he couldn't see it for himself, and to get up too much hope when even if it were true he might not live to see it would be far too painful. 

But for the rest of his life, he always wished that he'd been able to get the blindfold off of his eyes in time to see Mach barrel down from the sky and knock Vector off the wagon with one strike of his hooves. 

Wild whinnies and snorts sounded, the guards sent flying after their master, and Durbe threw himself even harder into trying to get out of his bonds, no matter how useless his struggles were. A familiar hand, one that inspired him to lean into the touch instead of away from it, rested on his forehead for a moment, calming him. 

“Just a second. I'll get you out of this,” Nasch told him, and Durbe let himself relax completely for the first time since he'd awoken in the cell. He could hear Mach still fighting, the sound of steel-shod hooves clashing against what bits of armor Vector's warriors wore, and jerked his shoulders, hoping to get Nasch to realize he wanted the blindfold off first. 

Apparently Nasch got the message, since he unworked the thick fabric binding Durbe off, tossing them to the side. Durbe winced at the brilliant sunlight pouring down from above, then wriggled around until he could see Mach. 

Just in time; Vector stalked toward his beloved pegasus with sword out, the desire to kill burning bright in his eyes. Mach whirled and struck out with his hind hooves, and Vector only just managed to get one arm up in time to intercept the blow. He still ended up flying backwards, slamming into a tree, and started to try to get up. Mach stalked over to him and stared down. While the pegasus couldn't speak in any human tongue, the look of _don't even try it_ didn't need to be uttered to be clear. 

Vector stayed where he was, though Durbe found himself a trifle grateful that even the mad prince couldn't slay with his eyes. If he could, then every one of them would've fallen where they were. 

“Mach,” Durbe breathed the name out, and Mach bobbed his head and swished his tail in greeting. The knight's heart swelled in joy, and he ached to actually feel his long-time friend in his arms. 

It didn't take Nasch long to get the rest of the bonds off of him, since a few death-filled glares of his own at the guards produced the key to Durbe's shackles. As soon as the knight was on his feet again, he stumbled right over to Mach and wrapped his arms around him. 

“Mach.” He thought it would take him a while to be able to say much else. But there Mach was, warm and strong and alive in his arms, nuzzling against him as he always had whenever they'd been apart for more than a short while. Durbe ran one hand over Mach's shoulder, noticing a faint scar on the powerful muscle where he remembered an arrow landing, and glanced toward Nasch. 

“We found him near where the two of you were brought down. We probably missed Vector taking you by only a few minutes,” Nasch told him, a frown settling over his lips at the thought. “It took a couple of weeks for our healers to get him taken care of, but as soon as he could fly again, he started looking for you with the rest of us.” 

Durbe nodded; as hell-bent as Vector seemed to have been on catching him, there was no way they could've found him before he'd been carried off. He certainly hadn't been in any condition to fight at the time. 

Mach snorted, rubbing his nose against Durbe's chest. He looked in good shape, not a feather or a hair out of place. 

“You were wonderful,” Durbe murmured, turning to check on Vector. They'd had their eyes off him for only a few seconds, but... 

But that seemed more than enough for the slippery devil to vanish into thin air, as there was nothing remaining to show he'd been there but a vague shape in the dirt. His warriors remained, and from the look on their faces, Durbe doubted they would know where he'd vanished off to. 

“Let's get you back to camp,” Nasch said, still supporting him. Durbe didn't argue about either the destination or the support. It would take a while before he was back in the skies fighting, and he would need all of the help that he could get. 

* * *

Vector rubbed his arm, grateful as he seldom was that his enchanted armor, little though it was by the standards of other countries, could protect him from nearly anything. As it was, the feathered beast's blow had put a solid dent in the gauntlet, and he wouldn't be able to use his arm properly for at least a week or two. 

This wasn't the end. He swore that. He had plans for Nasch, and the whispered words of poison he'd dripped into Durbe's ears would not vanish all that easily. 

A mere setback, that was all this was, and not a very important one. 

* * *

Durbe remained quiet as the three of them headed back through the village, now very firmly in Nasch's control, with Vector's warriors either defeated and disarmed or dead. There wasn't any sign of Vector himself, but no one expected any. If anyone could hide himself in the smallest shadow to live and fight another day, it was Vector. 

But his words still whispered through Durbe's mind, the more so as Nasch helped him into a wagon that carried other injured warriors. Why should Nasch do this? A childhood friendship wasn't enough, was it? When he'd given his vows and oaths elsewhere? 

Nasch stayed beside him, as did Mach, one on each side. Mach watched over him with wise, worried eyes, and frequently Durbe found himself wishing his old friend could talk. If he could, then maybe he could purge Vector's poisonous words and figure a way to deal with all of this. 

It took days to get back to where the bulk of the army remained, and as soon as they arrived, Iris came running out, eyes sparkling and happy to see them again. 

“You're all right!” She chirped at Durbe as he slid off the wagon. He'd walked a little each day in order to help start getting his strength back, but he still wavered a little when she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged. “I was worried about you!” 

He leaned down to hug her, dredging a smile up as he did. Iris had a way of making anyone feel good, just by being there. He'd seen her visiting the injured and sick soldiers, and all of them looked happier after she arrived. Her full affection remained reserved for Nasch, of course, with Durbe coming in second along with Mach. 

Durbe often wondered what Merag would've thought of her. They would've never found her if Vector hadn't attacked in the first place, however, and sometimes he wondered what her life would've been like then. 

“Glad to see you again, too.” Though if all truth were to be told, he wasn't entirely certain of the 'all right' part just yet. 

Nasch moved in closer, resting a hand on Durbe's shoulder. “He needs to see the healers, Iris. You two can play later.” 

Iris nodded quickly, but fell in beside the two of them on the way to the healers' tents. She remained quiet, sneaking long blades of grass to Mach as they walked along, and Durbe pretended that he didn't see that. 

His armor and sword had been recovered from wherever Vector's soldiers had stored them; he didn't know for certain if they'd diced for his possessions, but he had them back, and that mattered more right now. He'd spent most of his evenings on the way back looking it over, polishing what he could, and checking for damages that he couldn't repair, usually with Nasch only a short distance away. 

They'd lain close to one another at night, watching the stars glimmer overheard, but nothing more. Vector's words did not fade with time, as Durbe had half-hoped they would. They did nothing more than rest near each other, partly because of how weary Durbe found himself still, and partly because those foul insinuations still burned trails in his thoughts. 

He wanted to get rid of them. He wanted to fight with a clear conscience and to feel Nasch's arms around him without the burning coals of guilt eating into him. 

The only problem was that he didn't know how. 

* * *

Something was wrong with Durbe. He spoke seldom of what actually happened to him during the weeks he'd spent as Vector's prisoner. No one quite had the nerve to ask him for more than the barest details, and all he said about that was that Vector wanted him to work for him, and nothing more. 

Nasch knew Durbe was lying. Or perhaps lying wasn't the proper word. He wasn't telling everything. Durbe didn't lie very well, after all. 

What Vector had teased Nasch himself with went a long way towards telling Nasch something of what Vector must have tried on Durbe as well. The thought of repeating those to Durbe, of hearing what Vector _had to have_ said to him in the privacy of prison...it nauseated Nasch just to think about. 

But he knew he had to do it. Durbe hadn't been the same since then, and he wanted to see that sparkle of life back in his lover's eyes. 

“Durbe?” Nasch found the knight seated in the woods a short distance from camp. Mach grazed not that far from him, ears tilted upward, nose turned toward the direction of the breeze. Hoofprints in some of the clearer portions of the clearing revealed that he'd roamed around, keeping an eye out for any kind of danger. 

“Nasch.” Durbe glanced up toward him, a light smile finding his lips. Within Nasch's chest, the knot of worry eased a small fraction. If Durbe could at least still smile, then not all was lost. “Is there something you need?” 

Nasch wished he'd been better at talking to people. He could lead warriors into battle without a problem, but this was not entirely his forte. But he would try, for Durbe's sake. 

So he moved a little closer and settled down next to Durbe. “I believe it's more of what you need.” He struggled to find the right words and decided simply to be direct. “What did Vector try to tell you? The full truth, Durbe, please. I know what he tried to tell _me_. He insisted that you would become his knight, and there were …other comments.” Other comments and the way that Vector said things, and it all added together. 

Durbe tensed the moment he spoke, dropping his gaze to the ground. Nasch had seen him reluctant to speak before, and wanted nothing more than to take the other's hand in his. He held back for now, though. He wanted to give Durbe all the time he needed, but some progress _had_ to be made. They would move out soon, and while Durbe wasn't totally recovered, he would be needed once more in the skies eventually. Any wound would be something Vector would attempt to use again. 

Durbe twiddled a long blade of grass in between his fingers. When he spoke, he didn't look at Nasch at all, but down at the ground. “He told me that...I've betrayed my vows to my king to fight by your side, Nasch. That was why he insisted to you, and me, that I would be his. Because he said that what happens once would happen again.” 

Nasch tilted his head back, something that wasn't humor and yet was a smile all the same flickering on his lips. “And you believed that?” 

Durbe blinked a few times, large gray eyes confused at first. “Nasch, he could declare war on my kingdom because of what I've done here. It would be _my_ fault.” 

“No.” Nasch's voice rang firm and true. “It would only be Vector's fault, as it's his fault for all of _this_.” He waved one hand back toward his own army. “And if anything, by helping me fight him, you're making certain he won't attack your kingdom, because he won't be around to do so in the first place.” 

The knight's mouth worked a few times and his shoulders slumped the tiniest bit. “You're certain?” 

“I am.” Now Nasch reached to take Durbe's hand, squeezing the warm fingers. “You treasure your vows, Durbe, and he knows that. You'd overthink it.” Vector had a thousand flaws, at the lowest count, but one of them wasn't being amazingly stupid. He knew how to play with people's minds. 

Durbe's fingers tightened around Nasch's. “I don't know what I'd do without you.” 

With all of his heart, Nasch hoped that neither of them would ever have to find out. 

* * *

Late at night, arms wrapped around Nasch and Nasch's around him, Durbe gazed up at the stars, his heart and mind far more at rest than they'd been for some time. He didn't think he'd be _completely_ at rest until Vector was no longer in a position to do anything to either the United Lands of Poseidon or his own kingdom. Only then would he completely believe everything Nasch told him. Only then _could_ he. 

_I should go home. If only for a visit._ He trusted the three brother knights he'd left to guard almost as much as he trusted Nasch. But there was nothing quite like keeping an eye on matters for oneself. 

He couldn't go just yet, though. Once the army moved forward again, he would have to take to the skies. He'd recovered enough for watching from above, even if he wasn't as ready for battle as he wanted. 

He could hear Mach's familiar breathing not that far away, and knew that his beloved partner watched over him even now. He did the same when he was awake. It would be a long time before either of them truly wished to be out of the other's sight for any reason, if at all. 

Durbe glanced down to where moonlight filtered through the trees arching overheard to caress across Nasch's sleeping features. He knew the slightest untoward sound would wake him up, so did what he could not to make any. Nasch would need all of his sleep. 

And he needed his own, he reminded himself, stifling a yawn, and closing his eyes. Perhaps for once he could rest without hearing Vector's taunting voice telling him how horrible of a knight he was, how his vows meant nothing to him, and how he would bring down anything that he touched. 

He would not believe Vector. Nasch had said it in other times, and it hadn't changed: any truth that Vector spoke was only meant to help him and hurt others. 

Vector's words would not poison him. Durbe rejected them now with every scrap of his being, something he knew he should've done to begin with. He curled up tighter against Nasch, smiling when the king curled closer to him as well, fingers brushing across Durbe's bare skin. For the first time since his return they'd indulged their passions with one another, and Durbe hadn't even imagined how much he'd missed that until afterward. 

His home kingdom lay far away across the ocean, but Durbe knew that he would always count Nasch as where his heart belonged. 

**The End**


End file.
